Breathing Lessons
by DarthAmmonite
Summary: Nanao couldn’t imagine what she’d do without the Eighth, or its captain. She supposed that she loved both, although it wasn’t the kind of whitehot passion that her friend Matsumoto was always waxing eloquent about. Maybe that was the problem.
1. Baby Birds

I have never actually written Bleach fanfic before--and not much fanfic at all, come to that!--so my profound apologies for all inaccuracies, idiocies, oddities and otherwise.

* * *

Afternoon in the Eighth Division offices.

Tawny light was slanting through the windows, picking up individual dust motes. The polished wooden floors gleamed. Behind the paper screens of the captain's office, it was dim and cool and quiet.

Vice-Captain Nanao had taken over the captain's office ten years earlier, on the principle that she was doing all the paperwork _anyway,_ and needed more room to stack it in. It was debatable whether Captain Kyouraku Shunsui had noticed yet. Since he spent most of his time on the roof, and only graced his office when it rained or when he was dragged by the collar, maybe a decade wasn't enough time to notice.

Still, the office was a lot cleaner now, and she'd funded the division for an entire month just on the proceeds from all the sake bottle returns.

Nanao leaned back, sighing. _He_ was up on the roof now, most likely, basking in the spring sunlight like a large pink lizard. Most of the Eighth was out doing the same thing, so the offices were quiet. She could hear, very faintly the sounds of combat, and the distant thump of buildings crashing down. Probably Eleventh Division. There was an entire team of contractors whose job was to follow the 11th around and rebuild structures after them. Rumor had it they worked triple shifts and were paid salaries that would make a shinigami blush.

She wondered idly who did the paperwork for that particular division. The notion of either Zaraki or his lieutenant filling out a form was laughable. Still, somebody had to be doing it… "Eleventh Squad, Combat Secretary," she said under her breath, and smirked down at her files.

Nanao shuffled through the papers again. She'd filled most of them out so that all they required was the captain's stamp. The bills were next. She sighed and fanned them out across the desk. They glared at her balefully. The Eighth did not merit the kind of budgetary leniency that the Eleventh got, since they were only highly skilled warriors, rather than unstoppable killing machines. A large part of Nanao's job consisted of fighting a balanced budget past a man with an immense pink wardrobe and a cast-iron liver.

"Sixteen bottles of sake—" she read aloud, "—only sixteen? Slow week…two baskets of rose petals…dry cleaning order for one captain's uniform, large, and three haoris, pink…two reams parchment, one inkstone…two _reams?" _She tapped her pen against her lips. "What would he do with two reams of paper?"

"I've taken up poetry," said the large pink lizard, who was apparently not basking on the roof after all. Nanao looked up over the tops of her glasses, and saw Shunsui sprawled out across the low couch, his hat pulled down over his eyes. "I was composing an ode to my lovely Nanao-chan."

"It took you two reams to compose an ode?" asked Nanao skeptically. He must have used shunpo to move from the roof, which he generally did if he was already laying down and didn't want to get up.

"My Nanao-chan is a lengthy subject," said Shunsui, opening one eye hopefully. "Would you like to hear what I wrote?"

"Not particularly."

He sat up, undaunted, and clasped his hands together. "My Nanao-chan has lovely eyes, as cold as winter's frosty skies—but far more lovely are her thighs—"

Her fan struck him between the eyes, cutting off the poetry. "That's enough of _that_."

"But it goes on for another ream's worth…" he said, giving her his tragic look. She had had years to develop an immunity to that look, and met it without flinching. He sighed and slumped back, pulling the hat down again. "My Nanao-chan is a harsh critic."

She waited until he'd closed his eyes again, then shook her head and smiled faintly. _Idiot._

Nanao went back to her paperwork. For close to an hour, the only sounds were the scratch of her pen and the distant rumble of falling masonry.

"Do you like doing this?" Shunsui asked suddenly.

She looked up, surprised. She'd thought he'd fallen asleep long since. "Doing what?"

He gestured to the stacks of paperwork. "All this. Forms. Files. Everything."

Nanao blinked. Almost, she said something cutting—after all, if she didn't do it, it wouldn't get done, and who's fault was that?—but something stopped her. It was his voice. He was using that odd, sad tone he had, when he saw things a little too clearly, and it stopped her, and made her consider the question.

Honestly, she'd never thought about it. It was just…part of the package. If you had a cat, and it threw up on the rug, you cleaned it up. You didn't enjoy it, but after awhile, you weren't particularly bothered by it, either—it was just something that had to be done. Nanao had a division, and a captain, which generated paperwork, and she cleaned it up, because it had to be done.

"Doing this is useful," she said finally, taking off her glasses and cleaning them on the corner of her robe. "I'm good at it. And it is better to be useful, because…"

She trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence, aware that she was veering into dark territory in her own head, and a little startled that she'd gotten there from a simple question about paperwork.

He did not press the matter. He never did. Nanao finished cleaning her glasses and put them back on, and saw that he was looking at her strangely.

He'd been doing that a lot lately, she thought, a little exasperated and more than a little disquieted. That particular look. It was penetrating but somewhat abstracted, as if he was trying to remember a grocery list and suspected it might be taped somewhere on the inside of her skull.

"Why?" she asked, nettled.

"I would not want my Nanao-chan to be unhappy," Shunsui said, and smiled a broad, foolish smile that she didn't believe for a second.

_He's up to something. _

_No, it's not the up-to-something look. It's close, though…_

Nanao took refuge in routine. "You have a meeting in twenty minutes." She held out a paper.

Shunsui heaved a sigh, the world's most put-upon captain, never mind that he slept sixteen hours a day and spent the other eight in various stages of inebriation. He got up, took the paper, gave her another of those odd looks, and then strolled out. She could hear him humming to himself in the corridor.

He had certainly been acting _odd_ lately. Nanao shook her head. Ever since…well, ever since…

_Ever since the fight with Yamamoto-sama._

Nanao inhaled. Her chest felt tight at the memory.

_The fight where you failed him before a blow was ever struck. The one where he had to drag you out before you suffocated on the old man's power._

_Yeah, _that _fight._

Did he want to replace her?

The thought woke an involuntary shudder. She set her pen down, very carefully, and twined her fingers together.

It would make sense. It would make a great deal of sense, now that she thought of it. It would explain the looks, the odd questions. He would never simply transfer her out of the blue. There was no malice in Shunsui, not a drop. He had once carried a lost baby bird in his hat, clear to Fourth Division, walking nearly five miles on foot, for fear that flash-stepping would alarm it.

_Good lord. What if this time he thinks I'm the baby bird?_ Nanao put her head in her hands.

She could see it clearly. He did not want her to be unhappy, and he did not want her dead, but she was obviously not capable of holding up anything but the paperwork end of being Vice-Captain. She was a competent fighter, but among the thirteen squads, competence was assumed—there were so many simply _amazing_ fighters that you could wallpaper the cafeteria with the merely competent. What if he was trying to figure out what to do with her, so that he could get a second in that wouldn't fail him?

_Chirp chirp, _said the voice inside her head, who was a traitor of the first water.

"Baseless speculation," she told herself, and then stopped, because she sounded a little shaky, not at all like her usual clipped tones. _Still. You don't know that. He could just be trying to remember your dress size so that he can send someone off to buy you some ungodly outfit made of two postage stamps and a bit of wet string._

_Sure._

Still…all those searching looks…Shunsui was a man with a problem, and Nanao was afraid that she was it.


	2. Trying to Breathe

"I have a problem," said Shunsui, laying back in the grass. Birds were chirping overhead, and cherry blossoms made a slow pink rain around him. The breeze whipped the petals into frothy drifts and tugged at the pale hair of his oldest friend.

"That's a fresh bottle of sake," said Ukitate, "and the grass doesn't look poisonous, so I'm stumped."

"It's Nanao-chan," said Shunsui, pulling his hat down.

"You've had _that_ problem for years, my friend."

"Ah, true…my sweet, cold Nanao-chan…I believe I love her," said Shunsui, to the inside of his hat.

"You always do. That's part of the problem."

The hat shifted slightly as Shunsui nodded in acknowledgement of the fairness of this statement.

"Your capacity for love is rather like Kenpachi's capacity for violence," said Ukitate dryly. "Broad, indiscriminate, and completely unpremeditated."

"Ah…" Shunsui grinned into the depths of the hat. "I knock down fewer buildings, though."

"There's that."

The pink blossoms continued to fall, forming fluttering patterns across the equally pink haori. Ukitate rested his sharp chin in one hand, a man all white mane and angles, like an arctic fox.

"This is different," said Shunsui, almost inaudibly.

"Since when?"

"Yama-ji."

"Ah."

They were both silent for awhile, remembering. Shunsui did not know what Ukitate had carried away from that final fight, but for a week afterwards, he had slept only in sweating fifteen minute cat-naps, something he'd never experienced before. It wasn't fear of the old man, or of his own death—Shunsui had faced his own death plenty of times, and although he would prefer to avoid it as long as there was sake to be drunk and naps to be taken, it held no particular terror for him.

No, it was Nanao-chan. He hadn't expected her to follow him, not really. He'd gone the way he had deliberately, to give her an excuse to lag one step behind. He and Ukitate were breaking any number of rules, laws, traditions and possibly a few commandments as well. He did not think his vice-captain would betray him, but he had expected her to delay for a moment—only a moment or two—long enough for plausible deniability of his actions. It had been the logical thing to do. There would have been a terrible shakedown of the thirteen divisions no matter what, but she would have been able to escape the worst of suspicion. Nanao was tough as tempered steel, and Shunsui did not believe for one moment that they would have executed someone with such a mastery of paperwork.

He had not truly expected her to throw logic to the winds, and follow him with such grim determination, nearly to her death.

For most of the week after, he would wake up over and over again, hearing Yama-ji's voice like an enraged volcano—"_I don't have the patience to teach you how to breathe." _And he would see Nanao on her knees, gasping, an expression of shock on her face that was shading rapidly to terror.

He'd been fast enough. He _knew_ that he'd been fast enough, flickering away from Ukitate's side and pulling Nanao free of the old man's suffocating reitsu. And yet for that awful week afterwards, he'd woken up time and again convinced that she was dying. For a man who valued his naps, this was intolerable. He'd felt as if he were the one suffocating, unable to get enough air until he had tracked her down and listened to her breathing.

It was easy enough during working hours, but Shunsui had even stepped into her private rooms a few times. He wasn't particularly proud of that, but in the middle of the night, his breath rattling in his chest, it had felt less like voyeurism than a matter of life and death.

_Not that there's anything wrong with voyeurism, mind you…_ Once he'd stopped panting like a broken horse, and started thinking clearly again, he'd been amused to discover that his ramrod-straight Nanao-chan slept in a nest of tangled blankets, like some small animal. Her permanent faint frown wasn't erased by sleep, though. One could not hope for so much.

He'd left immediately, of course.

Well, almost immediately.

Pretty quickly, anyway.

She hadn't caught him watching her, and that was the important thing. She was remarkably tolerant of his constant professions of affection—the smacks with the fan were just her way of playing along, he knew—but there was a difference between enduring "My darling Nanao-chan…" and waking up to discover your captain staring at you from eighteen inches away, listening to your breathing as if it were music. The one was within the bounds of their admittedly odd relationship. The other was just this side of creepy.

"Assuming I was going to give you advice—which you probably don't need anyway—" Ukitate said, "why should I believe that you won't get tired of this one as quickly as all the others? Ise-fukutaichou is what keeps your division from sinking into a quagmire of unpaid bills and unsigned forms. I would not recommend breaking her heart."

"Mmm…" Shunsui reached for the sake bottle, found it, and drank. After a moment, he said "I haven't looked at another woman since."

"Good god!" Ukitate sat bolt upright. "It's been weeks!"

"Mmmm…."

"Are you sure you're not _ill?"_

"Desperately heartsick for my darling Nanao-chan, perhaps…" and then, when Ukitate put up one pale eyebrow, "No, I'm fine." That was true, so far as it went. He was sleeping better now. The nightmares had tapered off, mostly. He was back up to a healthy fourteen hours of sleep a day.

Ukitate reached over and yanked the hat off. Shunsui blinked up at him in mild dismay.

"You're serious," said Ukitate, staring down at him. "You're actually serious."

Shunsui, who hated to admit to being serious about anything, shrugged and made a half-hearted grab for his hat.

"Why _now?_ Nanao has been your lieutenant for _years. _Which is impressive in and of itself, since for awhile there you were going through lieutenants like bottles of sake."

Shunsui abandoned his hat and reached for the sake. Ukitate snatched it and held it out of reach. Shunsui groaned.

"She could have died," he said finally, putting his wrist over his eyes to block out the sun.

_She very nearly did, eh, old man? All out of a loyalty that you hadn't even given her credit for. _She had seemed very small when he picked her up, shaking like a leaf in a gale, as if the gasps tearing through her body were bigger than she was. It had shocked him. Normally he only thought of her as small the way that, oh, a hornet was small, or a particularly pointed rock in one's sandal—something capable of generating pain all out of proportion to its size.

Ukitate drummed his fingers on the side of the sake bottle. "Guilt is not the same as love," he said finally.

Shunsui feinted for the sake and managed to grab his hat when Ukitate moved to protect the bottle. He yanked the hat down over his eyes again.

"Are you sure you're not just feeling guilty? You shouldn't. Nanao's a tough girl. She's not a bird you can carry home in your hat."

"It was an excellent bird," said Shunsui indistinctly. _Why _did they always give him a hard time about the bird? "It grew up and had a nest outside my window for years. I don't know why everyone always has to bring it up. It's not as if I devoted my life to ornithology."

"You're thinking of devoting your life to Nanao," Ukitate pointed out ruthlessly. "She won't take anything less, and if you get tired of her in a week, you'll be out the best lieutenant you've ever had."

"Mmmmph." He waved a hand lazily. Ukitate rolled his eyes and drank back a slug of sake, stifling a cough.

"It's all moot anyway," Shunsui said finally, long after Ukitate had given him up as unconscious. "My darling Nanao-chan sees me primarily as a source of paperwork and annoyance."

"So change her mind," said Ukitate dryly, wrapping white strands of hair around his fingers. "You, of all people, should be skilled at attracting the attentions of women."

Shunsui muttered something into his hat.

"I didn't quite catch that."

"I said," said the captain of Eighth Division, enunciating each word, "Not. This. One."

Ukitate sighed, and passed over the bottle. "Then, my friend, you do indeed have a problem."

"I've been _saying,_" said Shunsui, much aggrieved, and drowned his sorrows in sake again.

"Have you tried showing her how you feel?" asked Ukitate.


	3. Breathing Lessons

Gods above and below, he was watching her _again_.

Nanao hunched her shoulders at the desk and stared fixedly at her paperwork. Shunsui was on the couch, pretending to sleep, but she could feel his eyes on her back, a steady heat against her skin.

If he was going to transfer her, she wished he'd just get it _over_ with. Waiting for the axe to fall was killing her.

_You don't mean that…_

Nanao massaged her temples wearily. No, she probably didn't mean that. She couldn't imagine what she'd do without the Eighth, or its captain. She supposed that she loved both, although it wasn't the kind of white-hot passion that her friend Matsumoto was always waxing eloquent about. Maybe that was the problem. She was not particularly good at passion. She was much better at paperwork, and the only people who considered paperwork a sign of love were all in the Accounting Department and were generally shunned by polite society.

She supposed she'd go to the Fourth. She might have preferred the Thirteenth, but Shunsui was hardly going to rid himself of an inadequate second by foisting her off on his dearest friend. She wasn't much of a healer, but she could do the basics, and someone with her organizational skills was generally welcome anywhere. The Twelfth would have been a better fit, but Captain Mayuri…ugh. She repressed a shudder. She'd try to fight her way into the Eleventh first. At least that was a clean death and didn't involve probes.

"My sweet Nanao-chan looks tired," rumbled Shunsui behind her.

"For the thousandth time," she said, stamping a form with rather more force than needed, "I am not_ your_ Nanao-chan."

They made this particular ritual exchange three or four times a day. His next line would be "Ah, my Nanao-chan is cruel…" and then he'd trail off and probably fall asleep again. In an odd way, she was glad to hear it—it was a measure of normalcy that had been sorely lacking recently.

"You could be," he said, instead.

It took a moment for this to register. Her brain sent back to her ears for confirmation two or three times. They insisted that they'd heard correctly.

"W-what?" She felt like an actor in a play whose partner had suddenly abandoned his lines.

"You could be," he said again, and good lord, he was standing right behind her. She hadn't heard him get up. Possibly he'd used shunpo, or maybe she hadn't heard it over the roaring in her ears.

_What is he saying? Am I hallucinating? I've been under stress lately, possibly I'm having some kind of overwork-induced hallucination, in a minute I'll pass out and I'll wake up over in Fourth and _gods,_ I hope I don't say anything too humiliating on the way over—_

_You're babbling inside your own head. Lovely._

Hands closed over her shoulders, and that was definitely not a hallucination. She jerked upright, startled.

"My Nanao-chan is tense today…"

Good lord, he was rubbing her _neck. _Callused thumbs settled on either side of her vertebrae and slid upwards toward her hair. Their warmth lingered on her skin long after they'd passed.

_Uh-oh. _

_He doesn't mean anything by it. He's just being his usual flirty self. That's all. Nothing…nothing to get worked up over… _argued part of her brain.

_Yeah, right,_ said another part.

"My dutiful Nanao-chan works far too hard…"

He was certainly very _good _at it. There had to be some trace of the healing arts in it, or else he was uncannily skilled at finding the sore spots left from wielding a pen for half the day and a sword for the other half. His fingers glided like oil over her shoulders. Muscles were loosening that had been drawn tight for the past three centuries. Nanao's eyelids slid down involuntarily.

Unfortunately, even while her shoulders were relaxing, other bits were getting very tense indeed.

_Should I stop him?_

_I should stop him._

_You're getting a free neckrub,_ said a heretofore unsuspected and apparently hedonistic third part of her brain, _so just shut up and enjoy it. _

Nanao forced her eyes open, peered down, and discovered that she'd stamped the top form six times in the box marked "Do not write in this space."

"Damnit," she said, under her breath, and felt a puff of warmth against the back of her head as Shunsui laughed.

_This is not a good idea, Nanao. This is a very, very, very bad idea._

_  
What idea? I'm not having any ideas!_ He's_ the one rubbing _my_ neck!_

_Uh-huh. _Her brain did not sound convinced. That was the trouble with brains, they had access to all the same information you did, including the way her heart was pounding and her…

_Let's just stick to the heart pounding for now, shall we?_

He was not rubbing her neck like a friend or a comrade in arms. His fingers were lingering entirely too long, stroking her skin like a lover.

_Oh, dear…_

She did love Shunsui, of course. He was easy to love. She had told herself for years that it was the platonic love of a subordinate for a very fine officer, (mixed, admittedly, with the exasperation of a pet owner for a beloved pet that was forever shedding sake bottles and leaving piles of paperwork to clean up.) He was a dear friend and she admired a great deal about him, but still…platonic. Purely platonic.

The fluttering in her chest did not feel very platonic, and the less said about the fluttering somewhat lower, the better.

_This is ridiculous. He's not…he's just being Shunsui, that's all. He doesn't mean anything by it. _

_Uh-huh. And if you believe that, I have a wonderful bridge I'd like to sell you…_

"My lovely Nanao-chan," he murmured, and kissed the top of her head.

She shot to her feet in pure shock, cracking him brutally in the nose with her skull. He reeled backward, one hand over his face, and that gave her time to get the chair between them.

"What are you _doing?_" she demanded, hearing her voice shake.

"I could ask you the same question," he said reproachfully, checking his fingers for blood. "Ow."

"You started it!" she snapped.

Apparently deciding that his nose wasn't broken, he dropped his hand and smiled ruefully at her, the usual broad and foolish smile, but there was something under it that made her swallow hard. "My dear Nanao-chan…you never fail to surprise me."

He moved towards her, across the wooden floor.

She swallowed again. He was a large man. It was easy to forget, when you saw him in the company of Captains like Kenpachi or Sajin, who were inhumanly huge. But compared to her, in a room the size of the office, Shunsui was capable of looming quite effectively._ Dry cleaning, one captain's uniform, large…_ she thought, for no apparent reason, and fought back a hysterical giggle.

She was not afraid, not exactly. Nanao would have believed in sunrise at midnight, or that Ichimaru Gin would come back and take up work as a cocktail waitress before she would have believed that Shunsui would harm her. Still. She was shaking, and her heart was skittering like a lizard over hot rocks. If this wasn't fear, it was at least a little like it.

"Dear Nanao-chan…" he said gently, the sort of voice that would soothe baby birds and nervous Vice-Captains. His eyes were brown and very deep.

Her spine hit the wall, startling her. She hadn't realized she'd been backing away. She laid a hand flat against it, feeling cool plaster under her fingers. Her skin felt feverishly hot.

"We can't do this," she said, and realized immediately that she'd made a tactical error.

_Yes, the 'we' was a mistake. And admitting that he's doing anything out of the ordinary, that was a mistake, too. Any chance of getting out of this with a fan whack just went out the window… _The little voice in her head did not sound entirely displeased by this.

_Traitor!_

_Oh, shut up. _

Shunsui placed a hand flat against the wall and leaned against it. "Why not?"

Nanao had to lick her lips before she could speak, and that was probably a tactical error as well, because his eyes riveted on the motion like a cat at a mousehole. "You're a captain. I—I'm—"

Err…what was she again? Something important, surely…she'd had a point she was making somewhere…his eyes were so dark they were almost black, like very high-quality chocolate…

_Vice-captain._

_Thank you, yes, one of those._

"I'm a Vice-captain. Your subordinate. There are rules…"

"Which have been broken many times before, darling Nanao-chan," he said, reaching out with his free hand and tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. His hand was very warm, and he did not take it away immediately, running a fingertip over the rim of her ear and down her jaw.

Nanao knew that that wasn't a good reason—that was a terrible reason, in fact, she was quite sure of it, just because other people broke the rules didn't mean that you could or should—but she couldn't seem to frame the argument effectively, because he had laid a palm against her face and was stroking his thumb over her cheekbone as delicately as a man handling a hollow egg.

_A little help here?_

_Oh, I got nothin'. He does have wonderful hands though, hmmm?_

She could have gotten away. He was close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, but he wasn't pinning her to the wall or anything. Her way was blocked by that ridiculous haori, a flimsy enough barrier. She could have ducked away. Her book was on the table, but she could have slapped him, or used the demon arts—she was his equal with kido, possibly even his superior, and they both knew it.

Hell, she could have simply have ordered him to stop. Put enough iron in her voice, take refuge in formal language…she knew him well enough to know that he'd have backed off. There was no unkindness in him, and he certainly did not need to force himself on an unwilling lieutenant.

Unfortunately, Nanao wasn't entirely sure that's what she wanted. She knew this was a bad idea—for some reason, she couldn't quite remember why, but definitely bad—he was trailing a finger across her lips, and that was _not_ helping—

"You're drunk," she said, almost inaudibly, to buy a little time.

_I have to think. I need a minute to think. Just a minute. Just a clear—_

_Yeah, you're not going to get that. _

"I am entirely sober," he said solemnly, and the voice in her head obviously knew what it was talking about, because Shunsui leaned down and closed his mouth over hers.

The world went away for a little while, lost in the velvety sensation of his lips on hers. Nanao could feel her knees starting to buckle, but that was okay, because he had an arm around her waist and was holding her up, which meant that she was pressed full-length against his body.

That _definitely_ wasn't okay.

His lips were as warm as his hands. He kissed her very tenderly, as if afraid that she might shatter—_and a good thing, too, because I just might_… His mouth on hers was light as the wings of a hell-butterfly, and every movement was slow and careful and precise. She had the oddest feeling that he was as nervous as she was, and that made no sense at all. He'd done this hundreds of times—and that was another reason why this was a terrible idea, come to that, she should put an end to it at once.

_Well, perhaps in just a minute or two…_

The kiss deepened, as much her doing as his. He was still being maddeningly gentle. It was going to drive her crazy in a minute—well, _crazier._ Her body, traitor that it was, had molded itself against him with a pliability Nanao found rather appalling. She was definitely going to have to have a word with herself…for god's sake, she had a hand fisted in his haori, and the other one had slid up the back of his neck, and how did_ that_ happen?

_Don't look at me, _I _don't control the limbs. _(Apparently this was a sore point with that part of her brain.)

For all that Shunsui spent most of his time napping, his body was hard with muscle. Nanao clung to him like a rock. She didn't think her knees were supporting any of her weight at this point, but he gave no sign at all of strain, even bending down as far as he was to kiss her.

She was shaking, and he had to be able to feel it, and that was either erotic or intensely aggravating, possibly both. _Good luck convincing him you're no baby bird now…_

_Oh, chirp-_chirp.

This was a _really_ terrible idea.

She had to break off the kiss. She couldn't seem to get enough air in her lungs. She was going to drown on dry land, in those impossible chocolate eyes. She turned her head away, finally, and gasped for air. Her lungs cried out in relief. Most of the rest of her cried out in dismay.

"Nanao-chan?" he murmured.

"I can't breathe," she said hoarsely.

"Let me teach you," he whispered.

If he kissed her again, she would be lost. She had to think. She needed a moment—just a moment, just long enough to drag the shreds of rational thought around her. This was not something to rush into. She had to think.

She could no more think in his arms than she could fly.

"Nanao-chan—" he said, undoubtedly seeing the panic in her eyes, and moving to quench it. "Nanao-chan, it will be all ri—"

Nanao ducked under his arm, took a step, and vanished.


	4. Birds with Teeth

Nanao knew damn well that he was her superior at shunpo, but maybe that wouldn't matter. Maybe he wouldn't give chase at all. She flicked to the hallway, then up to the roof.

The terra cotta tiles were slick underfoot, and she was still badly off-balance. She stumbled a bit, nearly went to one knee—and strong arms caught her from behind, holding her upright.

"Careful, Nanao-chan…" a familiar voice said in her ear. She could feel his breath against her cheek.

_Damnit!_

She flicked out again, to the courtyard, and immediately into a back alley, stopping for one rapid breath and then shooting off again.

Two alleys over, she paused, panting. Her hair was coming undone, and she shoved one of the sticks back in ruthlessly.

"Let me help you with that…"

God's teeth and toenails, the man was fast! She threw herself blindly sideways, teeth bared in frustration, moving so quickly that she barely set a foot down before shoving off again.

He stayed with her, as tight as a tick on a dog's back.

_Flick._

"My darling Nanao-chan—"

_Flick._

"—is playing—

_Flick._

"--hard to get?"

_Flick._

It rapidly became obvious that she wasn't going to lose him through sheer speed. The fact that there was a half-second delay between when she materialized and when he did was probably due to the fact that he wasn't trying very hard.

Gods! She needed five minutes. Three minutes. One minute, even. That was all. A lousy minute to get her mental feet under her and _think. _

A half second was not going to cut it.

Where was she now? Top of the one of the tea-houses, it looked like. It was only midmorning by the sun. Somehow it seemed like it should have been later, as if an age of the earth should have passed over the course of that kiss.

Shunsui appeared in front of her, looking sober and slightly sad.

"If you—"

_Flick._

"—want me to—"

_Flick._

"—stop, you need—"

_Flick._

"—only ask."

He would, too. Damnit. She paused long enough for another breath, and to shove her hair out of her eyes. He watched every movement like some kind of peculiar pink hawk.

Nanao was willing to admit that she was being irrational, but she didn't _want_ to beg him for five minutes to clear her head. She had her pride. She didn't want to dive into the safety of one of the areas she knew he wouldn't go—the women's locker room, say. (She was pretty sure he wouldn't go there. Almost sure. Fairly sure. Not really sure at all, come to that…)

That he already thought of her as a baby bird was infuriating. She wasn't going to compound it by running and hiding. She wanted to lose him long enough to _think_, not surrender completely.

Besides, she wasn't even sure that she _wanted_ him to stop. That was one of the things she didn't know, and couldn't decide in the half-bloody-second he was giving her.

She met his eyes and didn't say anything before flicking out again.

When he appeared again, he was starting to smile.

Damn, that was what she got for encouraging him. Fine. She couldn't out-step him. She'd have to be smarter than he was.

Nanao flicked an erratic zig-zag, back and forth, moving as rapidly as she could. Shunsui kept with her, barely a step behind. The edge of his haori actually slid over her hand on the last step.

Up to the execution ground she went, and those surroundings startled him for the merest instant, which was all she was going to get. Nanao flung a ball of demon magic at the ground and vanished again.

She was very, very good at demon magic. It wasn't meant to wound, but it was bright and loud and the power masked her own for just an instant. She sped down the mountain as fast as she'd come, leaving tiny avalanches of pebbles behind her.

"Clever Nanao-chan," he said pleasantly, six inches behind her shoulder.

_Damn!_

_Time for plan B…_

A wicked grin spread over her face. She stepped through space again.

* * *

The offices of the Tenth division looked pretty much like everybody else's offices—white walls, wooden floors, sliding paper screens. Matsumoto Rangiku leaned against the windowsill and yawned. It was a gorgeous day. Was it too early to start drinking sake? Probably. 

Well, maybe just a little sip…

Nanao flicked into the room next to her. Matsumoto blinked. "Nanao…?"

She looked like Nanao. She was the right height, and the right build, and everything. But this Nanao's glasses were askew and her hair was falling out of its tight knot, and she had an expression that Matsumoto just barely remembered from their days at the Academy.

"The captain needs a hug," said Nanao, shoving her glasses back up, and vanished with Matsumoto's squeal of delight still ringing in her ears.

It took Shunsui nearly ten seconds to catch up to her that time, and he was definitely looking rumpled. "That was low, Nanao-chan," he said approvingly.

_Time for him to learn this baby bird has teeth…_

_Uh, birds don't actually have—_

_Shut up!_

She went out again.

* * *

Captain Hitsugaya stared glumly at the forms on his desk. There was sheet A, and sheet C. Where was sheet B? It had to be around here somewhere…if Matsumoto hadn't lost it somewhere… He rifled through the stack. Not a sheet B in any of them. The one on the bottom had four sheet D's. Ice was beginning to rime the edges of his desk from sheer frustration, and the ink had frozen on the inkstone. He could feel a headache coming on. 

Ise Nanao, the second of Eighth Division, appeared in front of him, and dropped into seiza position in front of the desk. He blinked, leaning forward, and she said, in one hurried breath, "If you buy me five minutes, Hitsugaya-taicho, I will personally clear up the last month's backlog that I know Matsumoto left you!"

"Done!" said Hitsugaya, who was not called a boy genius for nothing. She vanished again.

He had no idea what he'd just agreed to, but he'd seen the size of the last month's backlog, and he wasn't about to look a gift shinigami in the mouth.

* * *

Captain Shunsui still wasn't sure if he was enjoying this or if it was incredibly frustrating. He'd had his Nanao-chan actually _in his arms_—and apparently he'd blown it, scared her senseless, and sent her off into a panicked flight across the city. 

Except that she wasn't acting scared senseless. She hadn't told him to stop, and he _knew_ that she knew that all it would take would be one harsh word. Hell, at this point one harsh word would have sent him crawling into a dark hole with as much sake as he could carry.

Was he doing the right thing? Was he making matters worse? Was she expecting him to follow?

He didn't know. Still, he had to admit that his lovely, tricky Nanao-chan was leading him on quite a merry chase. He was going to require a serious nap after this. Possibly two naps.

What kept him following was the wild look in her eyes—it was really quite inspiring—and that fact that he would swear by everything he held sacred that she had been right there with him. Unwilling women did not kiss you until their glasses fogged up, or melt against you like hot butter. He shook his head at the memory. He hadn't expected _that._

Thank god hakamas gave you plenty of breathing room.

He flash-stepped somewhere, still following the traces of Nanao's power—it looked like the offices of the Tenth again—and before he'd managed to get his bearings, a blast of ice hit him from the waist down, which chilled his ardor significantly.

"Oh, come on!" He looked up into the guilty-but-defiant face of Hitsugaya, who spread his hands, and then looked down at his ankles, which were encased in ice.

"It won't hurt you," said the young Captain apologetically, "and she said if I stalled you for five minutes, she'd clean up the backlog for the last month. Do you have any idea how much that is?"

_That woman is going to drive me to drink…_

"It's rude of me, I know, but you'll have to do your own paperwork." Shunsui said, intoned three words of demon magic, and dropped a fireball at his own feet.

* * *

Nanao paused on the steps of the library, grudgingly impressed. Shunsui appeared on the step below, looking much the worse for wear. His legs were soaking wet, and the bottom hem of his haori was actually on fire. She hadn't seen him in such a state since…well, ever, really. 

Hitsugaya had held him for less than thirty seconds.

The gleam in his eyes was positively _predatory._

"My dearest Nanao-chan," he rasped, "you are fighting _dirty._"

Something about the way he said that did dreadful things to her pulse. Her stomach turned over in a way that was not at all unpleasant.

_Damnit, I need five minutes, or—or—_

_Well, something'll happen anyway._

_Would that be such a bad thing?_

People were staring. Someone from Fourth was approaching with a bucket of water and a panicked expression.

"Captain?" One of the lower ranked members of Eighth appeared next to them. "Are we under attack?"

"We're fine," snapped Shunsui. "Get lost."

This was not at all a normal way for the captain to address the troops. Years of easy-going leadership had bred a certain independent-minded quality in the Eighth, however. The young man looked from his soggy, smoldering captain to his rattled, panting vice-captain, and a grin spread across his features until he looked like a happy shark. "Sir!" He fired off a salute. "Getting lost, _sir!"_ and vanished again.

Captain and vice-captain shared a brief, fond glance that was largely free of sexual tension—at least at first.

"Well, so much for discretion…" muttered Nanao.

"You can't really blame them. The betting pool's been growing compound interest for decades."

"Oh?" Nanao lifted her chin defiantly. "Maybe I ought to place a bet."

His eyes gleamed like molten chocolate. "Dearest Nanao-chan…" He reached out a hand and cupped her cheek as if they were entirely alone in the courtyard. "Any time you wish to cash in…"

_Damn, half of Soul Society has to be staring at us…oh, well. Can't be helped…_

"Captain—" she said huskily, turning her face so that her lips brushed against his palm. He watched, transfixed. An anvil could have fallen on him from a great height, and she rather doubted he'd have noticed.

"—you're on fire," she said and flash-stepped the hell out of there.

Shunsui made a sound of pure frustration, slapped at his robes—which were indeed on fire—and then the bucket of water hit him square and drenched him from head to toe.

He paused. One hand came up and wiped water out of his eyes. He turned a murderous gaze on the unfortunate girl from Fourth.

"S-sorry…" She cowered behind her bucket.

Shunsui exhaled. "No," he said, dredging up courtesy from some deep well. "I was on fire. Thank you." He tipped the edge of his soggy hat and flickered away.

* * *

Nanao was running out of energy, and definitely running out of time. She'd bought a few more seconds, but Shunsui was hot on her heels. He might not be a god of flash, but he could move with quite astonishing speed when he wanted to. 

Last chance, and then she'd have to take drastic measures. Ukitate was his oldest and dearest friend, and wouldn't possibly help her…or would he?

* * *

Shunsui flashed into existence, took one step forward through normal space, and got clotheslined across the chest with no finesse at all. 

He was bigger than the other man, and a good bit stronger, but momentum was against him. Even shunpo had to shed velocity somehow. His head snapped back and he fell backward, failed utterly to catch himself, and hit the floor with a grunt.

He vaguely recognized the ceiling as Thirteenth Division, from the carvings on the beams. That, and Ukitate Jyuushiro was staring down at him, rubbing his arm and looking appalled. That was a dead giveaway.

"_Et tu, _Ukitate…?"

"She said it was for your own good!" said his dearest friend. "I didn't expect you'd be moving so fast!" The white haired man shook his arm out from the shoulder, wincing. "I was planning on talking to you—I didn't realize you were going to come charging through like a rutting boar…"

Shunsui started to laugh. He couldn't help it. He was drenched and smoldering and his chest hurt and the back of his head hurt and he felt wonderful. The way she'd looked at him on the steps—no, there was something there. He would have staked his captaincy on it. Those blue eyes looked less like ice and more like a very hot flame.

He rolled to his feet, panting. "That little _minx…"_ and flashed out again.

* * *

Nanao saw him coming, taking a zig-zag path over the rooftops that followed the path she'd taken. She gained a few more seconds, but it wasn't enough. She was thinking about how to keep him off her tail, and that meant she wasn't thinking about—about whatever the hell she was supposed to be thinking about! 

_I do remember what that is, right?_

_Don't look at me, I'm still trying to remember that kiss. You just go on without me._

No, there was only one option left.

She was going to have to Zaraki him.

_Damnit._


	5. Getting Zaraki'd

My apologies--this will be the last update for a week, because I'll be out of town. Sorry! Hope you've been enjoying it so far...

* * *

Zaraki Kenpachi would probably have been surprised to learn that he'd been the greatest gift to the women of Soul Society in the last thousand years, but then again, he likely wouldn't have cared.

In an organization where anybody could be tracked by sensing their aura, and where half the people around you could teleport with some degree of accuracy, casual relationships were fraught with a certain amount of difficulty.

There are times when any woman just doesn't want to have a conversation right this minute, or would prefer to gently dissuade someone by avoiding them rather than having a messy and dramatic confrontation (at best) or having to incinerate them (at worst.) The world of the dead has just as many earnest, well-meaning young men as the world of the living, and being a shinigami did not make it any easier to dissuade them without feeling like you were kicking a large sword-carrying puppy.

Unfortunately, reitsu and shunpo, in concert, made it difficult to just slip out the back way when you weren't in the mood. Two seconds of thought and a brief interdimensional twist, and there they were again. Sure, there were shielded areas, but you couldn't spend all your life there, and while there were ways to hide your aura, not everybody was particularly good at it.

Enter Zaraki Kenpachi.

It's not that he was chivalrous. He wasn't. He had all the chivalry of a dead flounder, and a vocabulary to match. In Zaraki's world, the strong took what they wanted and the weak had better carry a switchblade in their back pocket.

But he had power like nobody else in the world. Flash-step into his immediate area for five or ten seconds, and trying to find your individual aura was like trying to locate a candle flame in the heart of a firestorm. And once somebody lost track of you, it was a great deal more difficult to be found again, and the minute or two of trying to work it out was generally more than enough for you to get someplace safe and relatively private, like the women's locker room or one of the shielded rooms in the library, and then an awkward conversation was averted without anybody having to go to the infirmary.

Within a few years of his arrival, "to Zaraki someone" became a verb among the female shinigami—i.e. "It was a great date until he started talking about his mother. Then I had to Zaraki him."

Whether Zaraki ever noticed that a surprising amount of women were flicking in and out of the edges of his power radius was debatable. (Yachiru _did _know, but considered this just another example of her beloved Ken-chan's greatness, and hadn't ever bothered to mention it to him.) Fortunately, he slept like a rock and never bothered to shield his quarters, which was a good thing, because for a man with a nonexistent sex life, more women passed through his rooms on any given night than Captain Shunsui could have managed in the best week of his life.

* * *

Finding Zaraki at any point was generally about as difficult as locating the sun on a cloudless day. You just turned towards the inferno. Nanao flickered across the rooftops, sensing that Shunsui was gaining on her, and she was pretty sure he was done with the _chasing_ bit and about to focus on the _catching._

_Really, would that be so bad? Men generally never even look at you twice, and this one's followed you across half the city, _and_ set himself on fire. _

_No!_

_Well…maybe…gods, I have to _think!

_I'm just saying…_

She darted a glance over her shoulder, and saw a flash of pink from the corner of her eye. Still back, but gaining—gods, _very_ fast. He definitely had the superior range, taking one step to every three of hers.

_Gods, he really is like a cat. Sleeping sixteen hours a day was just conserving energy for the hunt._

_You know what cats do when they catch baby birds, don't you?_ purred that traitorous little voice.

_Kill and eat them?_

_Uh…_

_Leave them on the pillows of their loved ones? _She had a brief, searing mental image of a baffled Captain Ukitate discovering her limp body draped over his pillow.

_Let's just forget we ever went down this particular metaphorical road, shall we?_ said her brain testily.

She wasn't even sure if this was going to work. It was the sort of thing you did to low-rankers, not captains. For all she knew, _her_ captain really could pick a candle flame out of a firestorm, and if he did, she was going to get pounced on in front of a good chunk of the Eleventh Division, which promised to open up whole new worlds of humiliation. Matsumoto might be the biggest gossip in the thirteen divisions, but Yumichika came in a close second if you got a drop of alcohol in him. (Zaraki himself wouldn't care unless she tried to disembowel Shunsui on the spot, in which case he might muster a certain minimal interest while it lasted.)

Still, she had exhausted all her other options.

Nanao caught the edge of the Eleventh Captain's power—it was like walking into an oven, you couldn't miss it—and charged inward. She was feeling almost giddy—from the chase? From the fact that she was _being_ chased, and half-wanted to get caught? Who could tell?—and practically danced across the last set of rooftops, before dropping off the highly visible roofline and into the streets.

What happened next was pure bad luck.

She arrived on the street just as Zaraki Kenpachi, in a spirit of positive reinforcement, flung one of the lower ranking members of the Eleventh through a load-bearing wall.

Nanao was well back from the fight—only an idiot would just turn up under Zaraki's nose, that was asking to be turned into human origami—but it was a large building, and it had taken quite a beating in the last few hours. She slumped against the wall, trying to catch her breath, and it seemed to buck against her shoulder. A long wooden groan echoed through the street.

Flakes of white fell around her.

_Is it snowing? In spring?_

She held out a hand, and realized almost immediately that it was plaster dust.

"Wha…?" She pulled back, and the entire third story caved in and came crashing down.

The sky rained bricks.

"Oh, shi—" Nanao began, turned to flash out of the way—and a chunk of masonry caught her behind the left ear and spun her immediately down into darkness.

"Ooh! Ooh!" Yachiru jumped up and down on Zaraki's shoulder. "Look, Ken-chan, look!"

"Huhn?" The enormous captain turned his head, in time to see a woman—was it the little lieutenant from Eighth? Or maybe the one from Twelfth? They all looked alike to him, and none of them were worth anything in a fight. Anyway, she'd just gotten nailed by falling brickwork, so she was going to be worth a lot less in the near future. "Oh. Huh."

She didn't go down right away, he'd give her that. She swayed on her feet as if trying to remember how to fall down, and then the second story went and the laws of gravity took over.

At the last possible instant, before a falling beam turned her into a damp splat, there was the telltale streak of someone flash-stepping. The woman, her rescuer, and a couple of bricks vanished.

"I think that was Nanao-chan!" said Yachiru happily. "Bye, Nanao-chan!" She waved.

Zaraki grunted. Nobody was killing anybody. Boring. He turned away, and looked for someone else to throw through a wall.

* * *

"Well, _that _didn't work."

Eight hours had passed, give or take. Shunsui, still wearing a haori showing signs of scorch marks, was sprawled out under his favorite cherry tree. Empty sake bottles littered the ground around him, leaving long shadows in the late afternoon light.

Ukitate was getting worried. Finding Shunsui had been harder than usual. His power was tamped down so tight that if the captain of Thirteenth hadn't _known_ where his friend would be, he'd have assumed Shunsui was a rock or a tree or one of the first-year Academy students.

Actually, in the late evening light, he did look rather like a particularly morose pink rock.

The white-haired captain sat down on the grass next to him, clearing a patch among the sake bottles. Judging by the number of empties, Shunsui wasn't even tasting the stuff as he drank. Usually it took somebody dying to get him to that state.

"But it seemed to be going so well! You tried showing her how you feel?"

"Oh, yes." Shunsui shredded an innocent cherry blossom between his fingers. "I showed her exactly how I felt. In response, she flash-stepped across half the town—no thanks to _you_, might I add—and tried to hide behind Zaraki. Then a goddamn _building_ fell on her."

Ukitate blinked. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," said Shunsui sourly. "Minor injuries. Fourth says she'll be up and around in a day or two. Unohana insisted on a day of rest. Says she's overworked."

"And you haven't gone to see her?" asked Ukitate, appalled.

"Mmmmm. Not since she woke up, no…"

Ukitate waited.

"I haven't had the nerve," muttered Shunsui, yanking down his hat.

There was a long silence. Ukitate turned away, shoulders shaking. For a moment, Shunsui thought he was having a coughing fit, but realized quickly enough that the other captain was laughing.

"You…_you_…got Zaraki'd…"

"I don't want to talk about it." He had both hands on his hat now, a size large hermit crab trying to wedge itself into a size small shell.

"Well," said Ukitate, helping himself to some sake, "at least she probably knows how you feel now."

A wordless sound of pain emerged from under the hat.

"How much sake have you drunk, anyway?"

"Not nearly enough." One hand flapped around until it located a bottle with a few drops in the bottom. "Jyuushiro—what if she decides to transfer out?"

"I'll take her," said Ukitate instantly.

"You will do nothing of the sort!" Shunsui shot upright, then had to clutch at his head. "Oooh…"

"The hell I won't!" Ukitate was laughing again. "Sorry, my friend, but all's fair in love and lieutenants." He tapped a finger against the bottle. "Assuming I don't have to fight a bloody duel to get her, mind you, which is a pretty big assumption. Half the captains would give their left arms for someone that competent to handle the paperwork…I hear rumors that Soi Fong is even in the market. Covert Ops loves paperwork, they just don't want anybody to look at it."

"I'll fight all of them," said Captain Shunsui, the Thirteen Squads' most noted pacifist. "Simultaneously."

"No, you won't."

"I will give them a very stern look, then."

"Now _that_ I believe." Ukitate slugged back more sake.

"I've screwed everything up," said Shunsui mournfully. "I thought—for a bit there, I really thought—"

"Well…" Ukitate reluctantly gave up the dream of someone to fill out his requisition forms. "When I saw her, she didn't exactly look like she was having a bad time. And she did say to stall you, not to stop you."

The hat lifted long enough to reveal one dark, wary eye. "Would you have?"

"Stopped you? If I thought you were hounding her, maybe. I doubt she'd have needed my help, though. She really _isn't_ a baby bird, Kyōraku. If you think she was interested, you were probably right."

"Mmm." He settled the hat again. "That was _before_ the building fell on her."

"Eh." Ukitate shrugged. "What's a building between friends? If I were you, I'd go tell her how you feel…and soon. The longer she wonders, the worse she's going to build it up in her own head."

"I am attempting to gather my courage," said Shunsui, with dignity. He stood up. He swayed on his feet, and it took several tries to adjust his hat, but he was definitely standing.

Ukitate scanned their immediate surroundings and sighed.

"If you haven't found it at the bottom of all these bottles, I think it's a lost cause…"


	6. God of Forms

Okay, this is way too addictive. Now I'm going, and it'll be a week.

Probably.

* * *

Nanao woke up to a raging headache and two very familiar….well, not faces, exactly. Her left was dominated by cleavage deep enough to require crampons and climbing rope, and there was a familiar straw hat to her right.

Both her hands were being held. That was touching, except that her nose itched something fierce. She wriggled it. No help.

Matsumoto saw that she was awake and let out an ear-splitting squeal of delight. "Nanao!"

Shunsui's head jerked up, and she caught a fleeting glimpse of haggard chocolate eyes before she was yanked into one of Matsumoto's trademarked hugs.

Matsumoto Rangiku was the only person Nanao knew who could deliver a bear hug without using her arms.

"Gnnnnrrrff!" Nanao flailed.

"You're awake! You're awake! Oh, thank goodness!"

Nanao managed to pry herself loose with one elbow. It would have been easier with two hands, but she was reluctant to pull free of her Captain's grip. She had a dreadful feeling that it might be the last time he touched her at all.

She couldn't remember exactly what had happened—she remembered the chase well enough, she'd been running, but then—there was a blankness in her memory and a sore spot the size of her fist across her skull.

"What happened?" she asked hoarsely.

"Ooooh…." Matsumoto began, clasping her hands together.

"You're awake." Shunsui stood up, discovered he was still holding her hand, and dropped it as if he was burned. "I'll get Unohana." He fled the room.

"_You're awake?" That's it? No "my Nanao-chan?" Ah, hell. I _have_ made a hash of things…_Nanao scratched her nose wretchedly.

"He's been here the whole time," Matsumoto confided.

"How long was that?"

"Oh, three or four hours. You really don't remember?"

Nanao began to shake her head, thought better of it, and said "No," instead. She rubbed her thumb over the knuckles of her right hand, trying to cling to that last memory of the warmth of his fingers.

"Well…" Matsumoto scooted up onto the bed, holding up her hands. "You do remember him chasing you, right?"

_Vividly. _"Yes."

"Well, apparently you went across half the city, and then you tried to Zaraki him—not a good idea, it might actually have _worked_, and _then_ where would you be?"

Nanao chose to ignore this editorial intrusion. "Go on."

"Well, you know the Eleventh. They were engaging in some unplanned urban renewal, and a building fell on you, and at the last moment—swooooop!" Matsumoto made a sweeping gesture with her right hand and caught it with her left, nearly falling off the bed and putting dangerous stresses on the upper parts of her clothing. "He pulled you out!"

"Where did you hear all this from, anyway?" asked Nanao weakly.

_Oh please, oh please, let her have seen the whole thing herself and followed me in here and not told anybody yet, oh please, thousand gods, I will burn my own weight in offerings. Money. Wine. Live goats. You name it._

"Yumichika! He saw everything! Everybody's talking about it!"

_Thanks, gods. No goats for _you.

"Oh, and he says to tell you that you have good cheekbones but you should really do something with your hair." Matsumoto smiled her dazzling smile. "But forget him—you and Shunsui! It's so romantic!"

"It's so horrible…" moaned Nanao, sliding lower under the covers. She had an overwhelming urge to pull the blankets over her head. Maybe if she did, this would turn out to be an awful dream.

"Horrible? Why?"

The screen slid open. Captain Unohana came in, with Shunsui right behind her. She wondered how much, if anything, he'd heard.

"Up and around, I see," said Unohana pleasantly. "Good. There is no permanent damage, but you need rest. You've been worn to the bone by the looks of it, and I want you resting for at least a day. And no more bricks!"

Nanao barely heard her, staring over her shoulder at the tall form in pink.

Shunsui gave her a single stricken look, and slipped out of the room.

Nanao did not consider herself an overly-emotional woman. It was because she was tired. She was tired, and she'd had a blow to the head, that was all. That was the only reason that her eyes were burning with unshed tears. Definitely concussion-related. She swiped at them with the back of her hand and sniffled.

"Oh, honey…" Matusmoto might have truly enormous breasts, but they concealed an equally enormous heart. She wrapped her arms—and other parts of her anatomy—around her friend. "There, there. It'll be okay. What's wrong?"

Unohana, eyes narrowed in professional concern, sat down on the edge of the bed and held out a hand. A soothing, impersonal warmth focused on the soreness behind Nanao's ear and sank into her bones.

"I'll have to leave," she said miserably, into what she chose to believe was Matsumoto's shoulder. "I can't stay in the Eighth now. What good am I as a Vice-Captain? He's had to drag me out of the stupidest situations twice now…and…and…"

Unohana and Matsumoto shared a look over the top of Nanao's head. The healer-Captain rose to her feet. "Don't overtire her. You have fifteen minutes, no more." She let herself out.

It took Matsumoto all of two and a half minutes to extract the entire story, through occasional sniffles. "He'll think I rejected him," Nanao moaned. "We'll never be able to work together now."

"Well, you kinda did," Matsumoto observed. "I'm sure you didn't mean to, but yeah, I can see how that could be read as "I'd rather have the Eleventh drop a building on my head than spend time with you," sure."

"Oh, _no…"_

"Nanao, honey, it's great to get them chasing you, but at some point you gotta let them catch up," said Matsumoto, one of the battle of the sexes' most decorated veterans.

_Oh, sure,_ now_ she tells me…_Nanao put her head in her hands.

"We'll work something out, honey." Matsumoto gave her another smothering hug and stood up. "If you really do have to leave the Eighth, you've always got a home with us. Now you get some rest."

Nanao watched her go, and wondered glumly how long it would take for this particular evolution of the story to make the rounds.

Left to her own thoughts, she flopped backwards across the pillows. Was it possible to die of shame?

_Why, oh why, didn't you just jump the man when you had the chance? If you're going to have to leave the Eighth anyway, might as well leave with one helluva memory…_

_Fat chance of that now. He's probably terrified that if he touches you, you'll stab yourself or something._

Sleep, predictably, eluded her. Her mind raced through all the dreadful ramifications and sank her deeper into depression. She wondered if she should get up and ask Unohana to give her something—oblivion seemed very welcoming about now—but even getting up seemed like too much effort. She dropped her head back and sighed.

There was a tentative scratch at the door.

Oh god, if it was him again, she really was going to die of shame. She couldn't believe how badly she'd screwed this up.

She hoped desperately that it wasn't him.

She hoped even more desperately that it was.

She fixed her eyes on the doorframe and waited for humiliation.

After a second, she had to drop her eyes about a foot, because humiliation was apparently a lot shorter than she'd expected.

"Captain Hitsugaya?"

The young shinigami had an immense stack of papers and a beseeching expression. "I know I didn't hold him for the full five minutes," he said desperately, "but if you could just help me find page B—even just tell me where to look—I wouldn't ask, but she's _really_ messed it up this time—"

The knot in Nanao's chest loosened slightly. She hadn't expected that—and yet, as long as she was the master of paperwork, she wasn't without options. If she couldn't bear to face the captain of the Eighth again, then Matsumoto was right, the Tenth would probably take her gladly. It'd be a demotion, but demotion was infinitely preferable to…to…

_What, exactly?_

_To staying where I'm not wanted. _

That was her great fear. Captain Shunsui was not exactly noted for his constancy, and Nanao was hardly noted for her personal charm. If she did throw all caution to the winds—_and you were _this _close, admit it_—then how long could it possibly last? Within a few weeks, a few months at most, he'd be looking for someone more fun, and then…

_I couldn't stay after that._ Nanao knew herself at least that well.

But now that they'd come too far. Whether she did, whether she didn't, it hardly mattered any more—they'd both be walking on eggshells either way. Could either of them work like that?

She didn't know. She heaved a painful sigh, and heard it catch in her throat like a sob.

Hitsugaya lifted his eyebrows in concern. "Ise-fukutaichou? Should I come back later?"

"I'm fine," she said hoarsely. "Now show me these forms…"

* * *

There was another rap at the door.

Hitsugaya threw his hands in the air. Nanao gave a brief, muted laugh, equal parts astonishment and exasperation.

It was a truism that the only thing that traveled through Soul Society faster than flash was gossip, and Nanao could personally testify to the truth of that. The rumor mill had gotten hold of the fact that Ise Nanao, God of Forms, might be seeking another post, and captains and vice-captains across the thirteen divisions had looked up with visions of empty desks and clean in-boxes dancing in their heads.

They had descended on her hospital room like a pack of very polite white-clad locusts. Nanao didn't know whether to be gratified or to throw the lot of them out on their ears.

Hitsugaya had appointed himself as her small, spiky-haired watchdog, for which Nanao was forced to be grateful, if not without misgivings. She was helping him with the paperwork, to be sure, but she suspected that there was a lot of the protector-of-baby-birds in Hitsugaya's personality.

Still, she was glad he was there for some of the more…unsettling…offers. Fox-headed Komamura had never bothered her, but Captain Mayuri's skeletal grin and offer of "free exploratory surgery for life" would have been a lot more alarming without his presence. (The temperature in the room had dropped notably during _that_ conversation.) Soi Fong had even put on an appearance, making a great many veiled hints that might, perhaps, at some point, possibly include a job offer for a job of a description so classified that she couldn't even admit there was actually a job involved, although there were definite intimations that it would pay very well. Still, that had not been a temptation.

Hell, at this point, Nanao wouldn't have been surprised to see Captain Aizen walk through the door and ask for help keeping the books in Hueco Mundo.

_Let me see, if gossip travels at the speed of sound, he should hear about it…carry the one…two hours from now? Bah. I was never any good at interdimensional math…_

The one captain she really _wanted_ to see had been notable by his absence.

The door slid open. It was Ukitate. Nanao felt a lurch of disappointment--mixed paradoxically with relief--in her stomach, but she'd gotten used to that by now. It was the same one she'd felt every time the door opened and did not reveal a familiar flash of pink.

"May I have a moment of your time, Ise-fukutaichou?"

Nanao met his eyes frankly, too tired for tact. "Are you here to offer me a job?"

Ukitate chuckled. "No. Well, actually, yes, I suppose—if you wanted one, we'd take you in a heartbeat, of course."

Hitsugaya raised his head from the papers. "What could the Thirteenth offer her that the Tenth can't?"

"Vice-Captaincy and the chance to keep an eye on Shunsui from a safe distance," said Ukitate, who, despite being the kindest of captains, had an understanding of human nature you could slice yourself to ribbons on.

Nanao inhaled sharply at that.

"However," he said, "that's not the reason I'm here. Might I speak with you in private a moment?"

"Ah…?" She gave the other captain a glance.

Hitsugaya rose to his feet. "I will return shortly," he said, bowing to both of them. He flashed Nanao a quick smile. "With more ink."

"Thank you, Hitsugaya-taicho."

Ukitate stepped aside to let him pass, and turned back to Nanao. "You are well?"

"Well enough…did the captain send you? My captain, I mean? Err—" she flushed suddenly, "I don't mean _my_ captain, but—"

"Captain Shunsui, having become as drunk as humanly possible, is now making his way here on foot, because he is too far gone for flash," said Ukitate, smiling. He slid the door shut. "He did not send me. I came to speak to you on my own."

Nanao sagged back against the pillows. "I've blown it," she said glumly. "If I ever expected him to take me seriously…" She shook her head.

The white-haired captain pulled up his chair. "Not necessarily. There are things, perhaps, that you should know…"


	7. Warning Shots

Captain Shunsui had walked a very long way, and the bottom of his hakama was drenched because he kept staggering off the pathways into the grass. The walk had sobered him a bit—enough that he could walk a reasonably straight line, provided no corners jumped out at him--but he hadn't gotten five steps into the halls of Fourth Division's infirmary before Captain Unohana cornered him anyway.

"You!"

_Great. She's figured out that I'm the reason a building fell on Nanao, she's going to forbid me to see her, and I'm going to have to break into a hospital in the middle of the night to profess my undying love for a woman who has absolutely no reason to believe me._

_This may require more sake.  
_

"Unohana-san," he said placatingly, giving her his best puppy-dog look, "it was all a misunderstanding, I swear…"

Unohana was not impressed. She rested a hand on the hilt of her sword and looked remarkably murderous for a healer. "You have to take her _out_ of here! This is not restful!"

"I—what?" That wasn't what he'd expected to hear.

"Ise Nanao!" She glared at him. "You're still her Captain, aren't you? For a little while longer?"

"Madam," he said icily, drawing himself to his full (if somewhat swaying) height, "I assure you that I am her captain for the foreseeable future."

Unohana was even less impressed. "Tell _them_ that. I've had four captains in here, and nearly as many vice-captains. The rumor is that you two had a falling out, which culminated in a running fire-fight across half the city—"

"It wasn't like that!"

"—and now you're about to give her her walking papers." She gave him a hard look.

"I would _never—"_

Unohana looked at him for a long moment, then sighed. "No, you wouldn't, would you? Unfortunate. I thought we might actually have a shot at getting her…well, never mind. Get her out of here. She needs rest, and she isn't getting any. This is a place of healing, not interviews!"

"Going," said Shunsui meekly, and fled down the hall in a swirl of pink.

"And walk!" she called after him. "You reek of sake!"

He walked obediently until he was around the corner, and broke into a run.

If he'd stopped to think about opening her door, he might have stood there all night, paralyzed, but he wasn't thinking, so it was open before it occurred to him that he might have wanted a moment to gather his courage.

Nanao, looking very tired indeed, was propped up on pillows. The bed, her legs, and the nightstand were covered in careful stacks of paper. On the floor at her bedside, Captain Hitsugaya was chewing on a pen.

Shunsui felt a sudden completely irrational surge of jealousy.

"Nanao-chan?" he said. "We're going."

She looked up, a flush starting to suffuse her pale skin.

Hitsugaya stood up and folded his arms. The fact that he was a good foot shorter than Shunsui made no apparent difference. He simply glared _up._

"I don't believe it's a good idea for Vice-Captain Ise to go anywhere," he said. _With you_ was not actually stated, but it hung loudly in the air anyway.

"Unohana's orders," said Shunsui, in clipped tones.

It was not in Hitsugaya's nature to back down from anything, but he had learned to pick his battles. The young captain glanced over his shoulder at Nanao, apparently to make sure that this was all right with her.

It occurred to Shunsui that if it _wasn't_ all right with her, he might very well be getting into a fight with another captain—and a minor to boot—in the middle of a hospital, which A) was definitely going to go onto his permanent record, and B) would require vast quantities of paperwork to settle and C) he probably wouldn't have his beloved Nanao-chan around to make sure it all got smoothed over.

These three realizations were balanced out by D) that at this point, he would probably do it anyway.

_Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead…_

"It's fine," said Nanao wearily. "Thank you."

"Hmm." The white-haired captain locked eyes with Shunsui. "Vice-Captain Ise, should you find that you are leaving the Eighth—"

"She isn't."

"—you have a standing offer from the Tenth."

"Thank you, Captain Hitsugaya." Nanao gathered up the papers, stacking them neatly crosswise. "I will consider it."

He took the papers, bowed politely to her, gave Shunsui a bare nod, and left the room.

Shunsui waited until the door had closed. "You wouldn't really leave the Eighth…would you, my Nanao-chan?"

Nanao wouldn't meet his eyes. Hers were back to icy blue, and there were dark circles under them. "Only if I were forced out."

Relief seized him so strongly that it felt like joy. "Good! Wonderful! Now, darling Nanao-chan, we really _are_ going." He yanked the blanket off her bed.

"What—hey!" She was wearing the standard issue hospital robe, which didn't leave much to the imagination, particularly not an imagination as overheated by sake as his.

"Get dressed." Shunsui located her clothing draped over a chair and tossed it to her. She swatted it out of the air, a line forming between her eyes.

"What? Where are we going?"

"We're getting you out of here so you can get some rest, before any more of these—these _vultures_—can offer you a job. Get dressed."

She didn't move.

He made an exasperated sound. "If you think I'm leaving you here so that the Fourth and the Tenth and the gods know who else can come sneaking in—"

"The Second, actually," she said, "what's left of the Third, the Seventh, the Twelfth, and the Thirteenth."

"The Thirteenth!" This actually did take him back. "That white-haired _weasel…_and you don't seem to be getting dressed, darling Nanao-chan…"

"You're drunk," she said, her lip curling.

"Very!" he agreed cheerfully. "Last warning. Get dressed, or _I_ will dress you—and I will enjoy that a _great_ deal." He smiled wolfishly down at her. She didn't budge. "That _was_ an order." She still didn't budge.

_What are you going to do if she actually calls you on it, old man?_

_I'll…get back to you on that one._

He took a step forward.

"I formally protest this handling," she said coldly, folding her arms.

"Your protest is formally noted."

Whatever she saw in his eyes, it apparently convinced her that he was entirely serious. "Fine. Turn around at least."

He decided not to push his luck and turned around to study the wall. Cloth rustled behind him. The sake-overheated imagination went to work again.

Despite what he'd said, the walk over really had sobered him up considerably, and a good thing too, because the flare of power behind him was the only warning he got. Shunsui dropped to one knee just in time for the ball of demon energy to pass over his head and leave a scorch mark on the wall three feet across.

He spun around, eyes wide. Nanao—dressed, if rather hastily—was crouched on the bed, one hand raised, and blue lightning was crackling around her fingertips.

"You didn't have to speak…" he said incredulously.

She shrugged. "Kido master, remember?" The lightning started to gather more brightly.

Their eyes locked.

Very deliberately, he reached down, wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the shorter of his two swords, and drew about an inch of steel.

The feeling of a captain-level zanpakutou being unsheathed in a room that small was like a silent thunderclap. His power washed through the room in a suffocating wave, crashing against hers like the sea striking stone. The lightning flared up in response to the surging of the psychic tide. For a moment it was very hard for either of them to breathe.

Nanao blinked at him. He shrugged. "Captain, remember?"

"You're _drawing_ on me?"

"You tried to disintegrate my head!"

"That was a warning shot!"

"So is this!"

Shunsui would never, ever, have actually _used_ his sword—he suspected he would have let her disintegrate him from the feet up first—but drawing it seemed to have ended the fireworks. Fine. Ukitate had told him twice now not to treat Nanao like a baby bird, and if that meant answering excessive force with excessive force, well…

God, her eyes were so very, very blue.

The psychic tide surged again, power washing over power, seeking weaknesses and finding none. His was vast and silken. Hers was a smaller spark, but as hard and polished as diamond. Trying to wear it down would have been like waiting for the ocean to erode a rock. It would take a thousand years or more, and the stone might just outlast the sea.

"My Nanao-chan has an astonishing will," he said, when he could remember how to speak.

"Your Nanao-chan needs it," she said hoarsely, "or her captain would eat her alive."

_Your _Nanao-chan. His heart gave a great leap, and the power flared up in response, until it seemed like they both might drown in it. The blue fire in her hands cast flickering shadows across her face and the long line of her collarbone. It was, he noted distantly, the exact color of her eyes.

They might have stood there, staring at each other, for the next thousand years, while power pulsed through the room, but there were footsteps in the hall, a babble of voices, and from the far end of the corridor, Unohana, in a voice that wasn't _quite_ a shout, _"What is going on in there?"_

They both started guiltily.

"Let's do this later," said Nanao, shaking fire off her fingertips.

"Yes, let's." He hastily resheathed Katen Kyoukotsu, took two steps over to the bed, and plucked her out of it.

"I can walk, damnit! The brick hit me in the head, not the feet!"

"And have you ducking out on me again? After the chase you gave me, my darling Nanao-chan should be grateful I didn't bring handcuffs."

Nanao shoved her glasses up, folded her arms, sat up as straight as a woman being carried in someone's arms can sit, and looked grim. Shunsui rested his chin on top of her head and grinned like a cat on a canary diet.

The footsteps in the hallway were definitely louder now.

"Out of curiosity," he said, settling her weight more comfortably across his chest, "about how much paperwork did that generate?"

She unbent enough to lean back and study the burnt wall. "Hmm…Form 12J-10, property destruction and unsheathing a zanpakutou in a restricted area, in the course of a duel of honor…"

"Was that a duel of honor?"

"You don't want to see the forms if it wasn't. About six inches worth of paperwork, I'd say."

"Long?"

"Thick."

"Will they get any thicker if I kick the door down?"

"Not significantly."

"Oh, _good. _I've always wanted to do that."

Despite herself, Nanao gave a brief, quickly stifled laugh.

"I heard that, dearest Nanao-chan…" He kicked the door down. Since it was a paper screen, it wasn't particularly difficult, but he felt a certain emotional satisfaction anyway.

The head of Fourth Division was on the other side of the screen. "_Please…leave…"_ said Unohana, obviously on the last frail edge of calm.

"Going!" he said cheerfully, sprinting down the hallway in the opposite direction (which wasn't the way toward the door, but he'd go out through the roof if need be.)

"Send me the forms, Unohana-taicho…" Nanao called helplessly over his shoulder.

"I will. And get some sleep…!"

Shunsui stalked through the halls of the infirmary, carrying Nanao, who was trying very hard to look as if she had no idea who he was and only just happened to be going the same way. Somebody wolf-whistled at them, then ducked hurriedly back into his room before Nanao's glare could reduce him to a pile of ash.

"This is not discreet," she muttered.

"Oh, and our 'running fire-fight' this morning was?"

The corners of her mouth turned down. He wanted very much to kiss them, but if he didn't look where he was going, he was going to run them both into a wall, and then Unohana really would yell.

They got to a stairwell, which lead to the roof, and that was close enough for Shunsui. The leap to the adjoining rooftop contained just enough drunken stagger to make Nanao yelp and throw her arms around his neck, which was all to the good as far as he was concerned.

She had a lovely yelp. He would have to do things to unsettle her more often.

_Yep, you're besotted, old man. _

_I know! Isn't it wonderful?_

Inside the hospital, examining the damage to her door and wall, the Captain of the Fourth pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger and shook her head wearily. Unohana had long suspected that the reason there were rules about captains and vice-captains consorting together was because the potential for property damage during courtship was profound.

Still, these two weren't the worst she'd seen. If Captain Zaraki ever fell in love with anything other than wanton violence, they'd probably have to evacuate the city.

Sighing, she called for one of the members of the squad to come clean up, and bring a bucket. Again.


	8. Looking Good in Pink

Shunsui's favorite grove of cherry trees was a mass of shadows and moonlight, the blossoms a milky carpeting over the grass. Once they were clear of inconvenient buildings, he'd flash-stepped most of the way, still carrying Nanao, despite the latter's heated protests that she could _so_ walk, damnit.

_My back will pay for this in the morning, but I don't care. _

It was all about style.

Nanao had stopped arguing, but she was shaking again. Shunsui could feel it down the length of her body where it was pressed against his. It was flattering, and a little bit worrisome. He had known a great many women—although probably not as many as rumor painted it, he wouldn't have had time for naps otherwise—but few of them shook when he touched them. Was she nervous? Excited? Terrified out of her mind?

_Are you sure you know what you're getting into, old man?_

_Does anybody ever know…?_

He was pretty sure he wasn't her first, although he was going to do everything in his power to be her last.

"My dearest Nanao-chan is trembling," he observed.

"I'm cold," she snapped.

It was a balmy evening, and she was, after all, cradled against his chest. He didn't believe her for a minute. She tilted her head back, met his eyes and dared him to call her on it.

_Fine, we'll do it her way…_

Shunsui considered this for a moment, then set her down on her feet. She took two steps away, hugging her arms around herself. He shrugged out of his haori and spread it out across the grass under one of the trees, then slipped off the captain's over-robe.

Nanao watched him as warily as a wild animal while he approached, but stood still while he draped it over her shoulders.

"Here. You've been promoted."

She huffed a laugh and wrapped herself up in the pale folds, rubbing one sleeve against her cheek.

"It looks good on you, lovely Nanao."

"Mmm." She looked him up and down. "You look good in black."

He made a polite scoffing sound. "_Everyone_ looks good in black. Looking good in pink, now…that's the trick."

She smothered a grin.

He sat down, set his back against the tree trunk and held out an arm. She eyed him suspiciously.

_Patience…patience…spook her again and the gods only know where she'll run to. _

He found it entirely typical of his Vice-Captain that he could pull a sword on her and she barely blinked, but she eyed a proffered hug as warily as a steel trap.

Patience was rewarded. After a minute she dropped to her knees and fitted herself against his side, hunching into a small ball so that her cheek rested on his chest.

"Lovely, lovely Nanao-chan…" he murmured into her hair. She sighed.

A long moment later, she said, as if it pained her, "Thank you for saving me."

"Any time, darling Nanao-chan."

"Hmmph!"

"It was a valiant last effort. Wouldn't have worked though."

"Oh?" She tilted her head back and raised an eyebrow at him. "Why not?"

"Mmmm. Because, sweet Nanao-chan, there is no place in this world or any other where I would lose track of you."

The corners of her mouth turned down again, and this time he bent his head and kissed it.

Her lips were cool and soft, sweeter than sake and twice as intoxicating. She was still shaking—had she ever stopped?—but when her mouth opened under his, he no longer believed it was fear.

They sat together under the cherry tree for a long, long time.

"Now what?" she asked almost inaudibly, when they had to break apart or risk asphyxiation. She'd moved to stretch out against him, one hand against his chest, one leg crooked over his. Shunsui couldn't quite remember when _that_ had happened, but he definitely wasn't complaining. Nimble, ink-stained fingers moved idly over his skin, a motion she was probably only half-aware of making, and which was going to have him baying at the moon in another minute.

Still… He suppressed a sigh. It was not the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, but it was definitely in the top ten. "Now you go to sleep," he said firmly, taking her hand, pulling it away, and kissing each knuckle. _Ah, yes, coherent thought, there you are, so nice to see you again…_ "Unohana's orders."

The flicker of regret in her eyes made him want to get up and dance, but that really would have scared her (and anyone else in the immediate vicinity—Shunsui had many talents, but dancing was not among them, and he'd been banned from doing so by general order ever since that fiasco with the Abba record a few years back.)

"I'm not that tired," she said, and then ruined it with a jaw-cracking yawn.

"Yes, you are, my lovely stubborn Nanao-chan."

"Hmmmph." She settled against him. He teased the pins out of her hair and ran his fingers over it, stroking her like a cat, a gesture he'd generally found very effective in getting women to relax. Hs Vice-Captain was no exception. Her eyelids sagged closed.

_Ah, sweet Nanao-chan…no, much as I would love to have my way with you right here, I want you wide awake for what happens next._

He wanted to take his time. He wanted the leisure to run his fingers over every square inch of her skin, partly out of lust, and partly out of sheer amazement that she was finally letting him touch her.

Well, okay, _mostly_ out of lust.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She made a semi-conscious "mmmmph" noise.

He wanted, very much, to make her feel loved, which was a rather trickier proposition than merely seducing someone. He suspected that merely seducing his suspicious Nanao-chan would result in somebody having their head disintegrated.

_Mind you, she is dead sexy when she's trying to kill you. If Unohana hadn't shown up…oh, well, probably for the best. Still. Must have a rematch one of these days…_

These were all things that required time, energy, and Nanao not being dead on her feet with a half-healed concussion.

_Besides, I haven't had a nap all day._

Shunsui leaned his head back against the tree, pulled his hat down, and listened to her breathing settle into the slow rhythm of sleep.

It really was all about style, after all.

* * *

A couple of hours later by the moon, somebody knocked on his hat with their knuckles.

Shunsui woke from his cat nap, pushed the brim up with his free hand and peered out from under it. He hardly needed to, really—he could recognize that particular power signature a mile off, and if it had been anybody _but _Ukitate, he probably would have done something regrettable.

_Anybody makes me wait one _second_ longer than need be, and pacifism be damned…_

"We're jumpy tonight," his friend said.

"I've had a long day."

"So I see." Ukitate leaned against the trunk of the tree, peering down at the sleeping Nanao. "Well, you certainly wore her out."

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Jyuushiro," said Shunsui, the black hole calling the kettle black. He tucked the edges of the captain's robe more snugly under her chin. "We've been as chaste as baby bunnies. She's getting a well deserved rest."

"You're exercising restraint now?" Ukitate looked around vaguely. "Goodness, is the apocalypse on us already?"

"Oh, you're one to talk." Shunsui glared at him. "_You_ went to her hospital room to offer her a job."

"No, I went to her room to offer her advice. The job was entirely secondary, and only because I'd make it easier for her to transfer back when she realized she couldn't live without you."

Shunsui grinned involuntarily. "I should be so lucky…what did you say to her, anyway?"

Ukitate tilted his head in the barest suggestion of a shrug. "I told her the truth."

"Mmmm. Any particular truth?"

"That you're an idiot."

"Oh, _that_ truth…"

"And I told her that any woman who could make you expend that much energy before noon did not need to worry about being cast aside in a week."

"Oh."

Nanao made a small, sleepy sound and burrowed against her Captain. Her eyelids flickered. "…mmmrff…is it time to get up…?"

"Not yet, Nanao-chan. Go back to sleep." He kissed her forehead.

"…'Kay…"

Shunsui rested his cheek on her hair and gave Ukitate a look that dared him to make something of it.

The white-haired captain smiled smugly. "I was going to ask if I was right…but I see that I am."

"As usual. Get lost, will you?"

"Fine, fine…" He started to turn away, then paused. "And _because_ you are my very good friend, even though you don't deserve it, I have managed to convince Captain Unohana that she doesn't need to file a complaint about a certain mess you left in her infirmary."

"I'll send you a fruit basket."

Ukitate grinned and turned away. He'd gotten three strides across the grass, leaving dark tracks in the dew, when Shunsui called softly after him. "Jyuushiro?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thanks."

"Of course."

* * *

Dawn came with its usual regrettable regularity, setting off the birds. Shunsui woke up from a peaceful nap after a particularly shrill nuthatch yammered practically in his ear.

_Oh, well…didn't want to sleep in today anyway. Especially when there are other things to be doing…_

There was a romantic notion that people looked younger when they slept. Nanao didn't. She looked pretty much the way she always looked, frowning slightly, the faintest line of concern between her eyes.

Another, rather more normal man might have had the urge to protect her anything that might cause her such concern, but since Shunsui knew full well that he was the source of most of her trouble, he'd just have to make it up to her.

He was smiling down at his armful of Vice-Captain when she opened her eyes and let out a yelp. "Captain!"

She tried to sit up, but he had an arm around her shoulders and wasn't letting go of her that easily. Her eyes were wide and startled, but he chose to believe that was from waking up to an unexpected face six inches away.

She groped for her glasses, found them, and put them on. Her gaze traveled down the length of their bodies, then back up to his face, her expression wavering on the knife-edge between horror and delight.

Shunsui took pity on her. "Relax, sweet Nanao-chan. Nothing happened….yet." He set his lips against her ear, and felt her jump. "Although I intend to rectify that as soon as possible."

"Hmmmm." Nanao ducked her head away and wiggled out of his grasp. He let her go reluctantly. _Patience, patience…gods and demons, I deserve sainthood for this… _She pulled off the captain's robe and dropped it in the grass, stretching, which did magnificent things to her body. He sat up and put his chin in his hand, watching. Her back was to him, and it was probably a good thing, because his expression couldn't have been anything but predatory.

"You're staring at me," she said, without turning around.

"I prefer to think of it as worship."

"Hmmph." She turned back, one hand rubbing at her neck. "I should really get back to work…"

"Your captain has extended your medical leave for another day."

Her lips twitched the way they did when she was trying not to smile. "The paperwork will pile up."

"Let it."

She strolled in a leisurely fashion back to the tree and dropped into a graceful crouch next to him. His breath caught.

Nanao smiled at him with a speculative expression that he liked very much indeed, reached out, and planted a hand in the middle of his chest. She pushed him back against the tree trunk. Since you could have knocked him over with a feather at that point, it took very little force.

_Oh god…_

She stroked a hand down his face. Shunsui gave up on breathing entirely.

_Oh god, yes, oh _please_ god…_

She leaned in and flicked her tongue across his lips.

_Nyrrrrr…_ His brain appeared to have shorted out. That was okay. He hadn't been using it anyway.

"Captain?" she breathed into his ear.

Speech. Yes. He could do that. "Yes?" he asked in a voice rather weaker and higher pitched than usual.

She nipped his ear hard enough to make him jerk and vanished from his arms like smoke. The whiff of ozone that always accompanied flash washed over him.

_Oh god, no. Oh god NO. She didn't just…_

_Yep. She did._

The dawn chorus of birds erupted into flight as he uttered a short but heartfelt scream of pure frustration.

_Sonofa…_

He'd often called her his cruel Nanao-chan, but apparently he hadn't know the half of it. The woman was a sadist of the first water.

Shunsui got up. He exhaled. He looked at his robe and haori on the grass, and didn't bother. If he caught her again, he wanted less clothes to get off…_if_ he caught her…bloody hell, he was really _was_ going to get handcuffs…

He drew the smaller of his swords. He suspected that this was a very stupid thing to do, but he did it anyway. Nanao had been very good at eluding him in the past, but not this time, and heaven help anybody who got in his way.

Fortunately for Soul Society, it was early morning, and most of the people who were awake were staggering home from a late night, and not inclined to bother a black-clad captain with an expression like thunder and a naked sword in his hand. Two members of the Eighth did see him, swaying their way home after drinking several members of the Eleventh under the table (the Eleventh might be unrivaled in combat, but the Eighth defended their position as the hardest drinkers in Seireitei with great vigor.)

"Was that…?"

"It sure looked like it."

"He looked almost…pissed."

They looked at each other. "Naaaaah."

"Wonder what happened to his hat…?"

Shunsui had in fact lost the hat on a particularly wicked turn a few miles back, and hadn't really noticed. Nanao was making no effort to hide her tracks, and now she appeared to have stopped moving entirely. He'd be there in a matter of seconds.

_And when I get there…_

_Err, what exactly are you going to do, old man?_

_I don't know._

Something drastic, anyway.

There she was. Not moving at all now—did she think she'd gotten away? That there was anywhere he wouldn't follow? He couldn't detect another power signature in the room with her, but in his current state, he couldn't swear that he would have noticed a direct kick to the head. Didn't matter. If someone else was there, he'd deal with it. Messily.

He flashed into the last room and skidded to a halt.

The surroundings were familiar. _Very_ familiar, in fact. For a stretching moment, he couldn't think why.

_Actually, you live here._

Ah. Yes. That was it. He was in his own quarters.

_You just came tearing into your own room with a sword in hand. Nicely done._

There was a tray with sake and two glasses on it on the bedside table. Nanao was sitting in a graceful seiza on his bed, the demure posture belied by the amusement in her eyes.

"Well?" she asked, as he stood there gaping at her. "What took you so long?"


	9. Epilogue

The dining hall where the Eighth went to fuel up was about two-thirds full. Half of the squad was enjoying a hearty breakfast in order to face the day, and the other half was still trying to recover from the night before. (The Eighth had the only cafeteria in Seireitei where a Bloody Mary was considered a vegetable side dish.)

The two young men who held the ninth and tenth seats were sitting at a table in the corner, nursing their hangover cures and having an argument.

"Look," Tenth said, "I know what I heard!"

"What you _thought_ you heard…" his friend said.

"It was Ise-san!"

Ninth rolled his eyes. "_Sure_ it was…"

The young woman who held the sixth seat came up and dropped her tray on the table. "Good morning. You two look like hell."

"Thanks! You should've seen the other guys."

"The Eleventh again?"

Ninth put a hand over his heart. "They never learn…"

"Good to know the honor of the Eighth is in safe hands." She dug into her breakfast.

Tenth drummed his fingers on the table. "Look, you can sense auras, right?"

Sixth shrugged. "Pretty well, I guess, if they're not moving around too much. Why?"

"Where's the Vice-Captain?"

"It wasn't her," muttered Ninth.

"It was totally her."

"Who was the what now?" asked Sixth, baffled.

Ninth dug an elbow into his friend's ribs. "He claims that he heard a woman screaming in the Captain's quarters this morning."

"Well, _that's_ not surprising…" The three of them lifted their glasses in a silent toast in the general direction of Shunsui's quarters. The Eighth was very proud of its Captain's accomplishments. _All_ his accomplishments.

"Thing is…" Ninth leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner, while Tenth blushed to the tips of his ears. "He says it sounded like _Ise."_

"Oh, no way! Last I heard they were fighting like cats and dogs."

"I know what I heard," muttered Tenth unrepentantly.

"How would you even know what Ise screaming sounds like?" his friend demanded.

Tenth took a large gulp of his hangover cure and grimaced. "Coupla years back, she was leading my patrol and we got routed by Hollows—you remember? Lost a couple of people, very messy. Would have lost everybody if the Vice-Captain hadn't kept her head. Anyway, at one point she was sitting on this Hollow's shoulders, blasting it right in the skull, and she kept screaming the words for the kido." He shrugged. "So I _do_ know what it sounds like." He took another drink. "Mind you…she didn't sound…err…_unhappy_…this time…"

Sixth rolled her eyes. "Hang on…" She put a hand to her temple and got the vague, listening look that junior shinigami usually wore when trying to track someone down. "Oh. Huh. Well, she is in his quarters, actually—"

"Ha! Told you!"

"—but I'm sure there's a perfectly logical reason…she's probably putting him to bed after a night of drinking or delivering paperwork or trying to get him to wake up and sign something, or…"

At that point, she became aware that her companions were staring past her with their mouths open and no longer appeared to be listening. She turned in her chair.

Captain Shunsui, wearing hastily belted hakama pants and nothing else, was looming over the unfortunate worker in charge of the drinks. His hair was a tangled mass over his shoulders, which tried but failed to cover a truly impressive series of hickeys. Whatever—_whoever_—he'd been doing for the last few hours, apparently she'd given as good as she'd gotten.

You could have heard a pin drop in the dining hall.

"This is a direct order," Shunsui said, a man at the end of his patience. "Go under the counter and get me the tin of that gunpowder green that I _know_ you keep under there. The good stuff, damnit!"

"But—" said the frantic worker, glancing past him at a sea of fascinated faces, "but Captain Shunsui—that's Vice-Captain Ise's private stash—"

"_Who do you think it's for?"_ roared Shunsui, in a voice he generally reserved for sword drills.

There was a moment of absolute stillness—and the room went mad. Cheers and catcalls erupted from all corners. Ninth and Tenth stamped their feet and whistled. Sixth threw her head back and howled like a wolf.

The Eighth respected its Vice-Captain a great deal, but it worshipped the ground its Captain walked on.

"Sir!" Tea, teapot and two cups appeared like a conjuring trick.

Shunsui grabbed the tray, turned back, saw his squad giving him a standing ovation, and shook his head. "Oh man….she's gonna _kill_ me…" The sheepishness of his grin could not entirely conceal its triumph.

"Captain!" The fourth seat, who was Eighth's unofficial bookkeeper, had leapt on his chair and was shouting to be heard. "Captain! What time?"

Shunsui put up an eyebrow. "A gentleman does _not_ kiss and tell…"

"It's for the betting pool!"

"Oh, well, in that case…" Shunsui coughed. "Five-forty-five." The room went wild again. He waved and flickered out of the room.

"Well," said Sixth, to no one in particular, "at least he remembered the pants this time…"

"Fine," said Ninth to his friend, "I suppose you _were_ right…err…are you okay?"

Tenth was staring straight ahead with a beatific expression. Ninth waved a hand in front of his eyes, and got no response. "Dude? Dude, are you okay?"

"Five-forty-five," said Tenth, who had just cleaned up on a betting pool half a century in the making. "I'm…_rich."_

* * *

**Several days later…**

Afternoon in the Thirteenth Division offices.

Light slanted through the windows in bright bars, and the wooden floors gleamed. Captain Ukitate had thrown the screens open to catch the late spring breeze. It was a beautiful day.

It was nearly criminal to be doing paperwork on a day like this, but he'd promised to copy his notes from the last general staff meeting for Shunsui, who'd fallen asleep in the middle of it. He'd been dropping off a lot more than usual lately, which was either a sign of encroaching narcolepsy or an indication that his Vice-Captain was keeping him up half the night.

Ukitate knew which he'd put money on.

As if the thought had summoned her, there was a sudden wash of ozone. Ukitate looked up, and saw Nanao flash into existence a few feet away. She bowed politely to him, said "May I?"

"Go ahead," said the white-haired captain, somewhat resigned and very much amused.

She grabbed one of the low tables in the room, wrestled it into position in front of his desk, said "Thank you, Ukitate-taicho!" and vanished again.

Ukitate began counting on his fingers.

_One…two…three…four…_

Shunsui appeared, took a step forward, tripped over the carefully positioned table and hit the floor. "Aaaarggh—!"

Ukitate put a hand over his eyes.

To Shunsui's credit, he landed the fall well, did a brief shoulder stand, and rolled to his feet, swaying.

Ukitate's gaze traveled slowly over his friend, noting the fact that Shunsui was soaked to the knee, had mud on his haori, and that his hat was a smoking skeleton of its former self—and that he was grinning from ear to ear.

_No, I don't think Nanao needs to worry about being replaced any time soon…_

"Well?" Shunsui hopped on one foot, rubbing at his bruised shin.

Ukitate sighed, and extended a hand. "She went thatttaway."

* * *

Well, that's the story, and thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed it even half as much as I enjoyed writing it--I was almost sorry to wrap it up, but one can only drag out sexual tension so long before one gets an urge to kick the characters in the head. (Still. This stuff is like crack, man. Absolute crack. Now I want to go write even more of it...hmm...y'know, Zaraki never gets any love...)

Thanks again!


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